Melt the Ice
by Unjax
Summary: Weiss just needed a friend. She would never let anyone know, but she needed someone to talk to; whether it be late on sleepless nights or in friendly banter during the day. But friendships come from the strangest of places in the most unexpected of people, and often grow into something much more.
1. Chapter 1

"Couldn't sleep?" She asked him, not sure why she was talking to him at all.

"Never can on an empty stomach!" He replied cheerily opening the cupboard door and pulling out a box of cereal with Pyrrha plastered on the front. She wondered how he could be so happy. She had striven her entire life to be the best, and she was miserable. She was afraid and alone, and there he was, perfectly happy. "You?"

"Just can't sleep." She replied. She never could.

"You should try." He said casually.

"You don't think I have?" She sneered. He sat down next to her and poured the cereal, unfazed.

"Not really, you always beat yourself up over little things and ignore those who try to help you. That means you can't sleep, because you're thinking about those little things. And you can't fix anything, because you won't talk to anyone about it."

"I'm not beating myself up over little things now."

"Yeah, you are." He said it so matter of factly she couldn't argue. He was right, after all.

"Well, I'm talking to you now, aren't I? So that's wrong. Besides, I don't tend to talk to people after two in the morning."

"You're just replying, and that's because there normally aren't any people to talk to."

 _Crunch, crunch._

"So, because you have no one better to talk to, why not talk to me?"

"Because you're being annoying right now." He just shrugged. Despite being the most apparently unconfident, Jaune was surprisingly sure of himself.

"I'm eating. Better than just sitting there staring at a slab of granite."

"..."

"Here," He slid the bowl in front of her and she just stared at the little chocolaty puffballs. "It's good, I promise."

"You should eat something healthy." Weiss reprimanded coldly, pushing the bowl back to him.

"I think you should eat something unhealthy. Indulge yourself a little. C'mon, when's the last time you had chocolate?" Weiss didn't even know. The strict diet she had put herself on provided all the calories and nutrients she needed to survive and stay healthy, but was very bland.

"I have no idea, and I have no reason to. It's unhealthy, and unlike some, I actually have a modicum of respect for my body." Again, he shrugged despite her unkind tone.

"Respect is overrated. If you can't enjoy the smaller things in life, what's the point?"

 _Crunch. Crunch._

"So, what's on your mind?" The question caught her off guard.

"Nothing that's your business."

"It's two A.M, obviously something's bothering you, and as a gentleman, it is my duty to alleviate any and all suffering you have." Weiss sighed heavily. She thought they were done with the ham-fisted attempts at flirting.

"We're not friends." She pointed out. He looked hurt for a moment. "I know what you want, and I don't like you that way. In any way, really."

Then he laughed. Weiss looked at him, perplexed.

"What?"

"Look, Weiss, I know. You don't want to date me, despite my obvious charm. I think that I pushed a little too hard and we got off on the wrong foot. I get it, and you don't have to worry about me trying to make a move. I'm sorry for the way I acted, really. It obviously made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry. Maybe we can forget it, and try again. As friends."

The idea was oddly appealing to Weiss, but she was uneasy. It had been easy to dismiss Jaune before as the bumbling fool, someone who just staggered drunkenly after who was arguably the most famous girl in school. The way he was talking now though made it harder to brush him off. It was mature, and a little bit of Weiss called out for a friend. A real friend. For some odd reason, Jaune seemed trusting and open.

"We're not friends." Jaune, for the first time, actually looked defeated by her words. "But," And he perked up at this. "Maybe we can work towards it." He grinned and slid the bowl of cereal over to her.

"Here, have a bite."

She did.

/

* * *

"You... Have no idea what you're doing." Weiss threw the sponge she had been using to scrub the pot at the annoying blond-haired moron who had questioned her.

"It's _washing_ _dishes._ There's no way to not know what I'm doing. You scrub the pot, and it gets clean." She looked at the rice caked to the bottom of the pot. "Eventually," She added. Weiss decided not to cook anything involving rice again when she made the team dinner. Ruby might have the worst ideas in the world, she thought. Getting each member of the team to cook a dinner on a separate night starting in second year was just silly.

"Weiss, my family is pretty big. Between my sisters, my parents, my relatives and I, thanksgivings are a little bit hectic, and there are a lot of dishes to get done."

"You're going to tell me you're an expert on washing dishes?"

"A savant of sorts." He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Weiss had to fight back the urge to face palm.

"Seems a suiting title for you." She sneered instead.

"Oh, you're just upset that you couldn't make the perfect meal."

"The _meal_ is fine. It's just the dishes." She corrected. He held up some not-so-white white rice. It may or may not have been slightly charred.

"The burning smell in the air disagrees."

"Shut it, Arc." She demanded and returned to scrubbing. She heard a heavy sigh beside her.

"Just let it soak."

"That's lazy and unproductive."

"You're wasting twice as much water trying to constantly scrub it out, dumping the water, then starting again. Just let it soak."

"And what? Watch the pot sit?"

Jaune walked up behind her, turned on the tap, grabbed the pot, filled it halfway up with water, then set it beside the sink. He shut off the water, grabbed her by the arms from behind, and steered her towards the island counter of the common area. He pulled out a cutting board, a knife, and then some carrots, tomatoes, peppers, cucumber and lettuce from the fridge.

"Because your team actually needs something to eat tonight, you're going to start on the salad. I have no idea why you tried for _sushi_ on your first time cooking, but that's decidedly out at this point."

"No it's-"

"You haven't even cooked the rice yet. I'll start frying some chicken."

"I cooked the rice!"

"You _overcooked_ the rice. Come on, salad."

"You are _not_ seriously ordering me around, are you?"

"Weiss?"

"What!"

"You spent thirty minutes trying to clean that pot. Have you checked the time?"

"Of course I have."

"Really?"

"Maybe."

"That's a no. It's eight o'clock. How much longer do you want to leave Blake stranded with a starving Yang and Ruby?"

"Fine." Weiss growled. She turned to the vegetables in front of her, then down at the knife in her hand. She looked at the lettuce first, then back at the knife. "How the hell do you cut lettuce?" The comment was entirely to herself, and she bit her tongue when she remembered that Jaune was still there.

"You don't have to." Jaune said, stepping up behind her. He carefully lifted the lettuce and ripped off a few leaves. He then ripped them into a few smaller bits, making the leafy, natural looking base for the salad that Weiss was used to.

"Oh," She said, flustered. She could feel the blood flushing her face.

"You've really never cooked before, have you?" He said leaning on the counter next to her. She looked into his blue eyes, a more oceanic shade than her own, then lowered her gaze.

"No," She said, trying to force down the shame.

"What's wrong?" He asked, the intonation showing his genuine care. Weiss was still getting used to them being friends and having him actually give a damn.

"I just... I don't like being reminded of stuff like that."

"That you missed out on as a kid?" For an idiot, he was annoyingly perceptive. She didn't want to answer, so she busied herself ripping up lettuce the way he had shown her. She just kept tearing it into pieces, and then she felt a hand on her own.

"Weiss?" She didn't answer, looking furiously at his hand covering hers. "Maybe don't rip them into a puree." She looked down at the lettuce, and noticed that she had torn the leaves into scraps that looked more like seasoning more than anything. Once again, he was right. That was getting _very_ frustrating. She let out a heavy sigh.

"It's alright." Jaune comforted, pulling his hand away. "I know you've missed out on some stuff, but you have plenty of time to learn." She knew the underlying message that he was so kindly avoiding. _To learn to be normal_. She wasn't normal, and she hated it.

"Don't you have some chicken to cook?" She snapped at him, and he nodded.

"Right on it captain!" He mocked saluted before going into the fridge. Weiss heard the crinkling of plastic wrap being removed as she methodically shredded the lettuce, followed by sizzling. When she had enough of the greenery, she threw it into a bowl she had pulled from the middle drawer. She then started slicing the tomatoes, pressing down on the sharp blade to cut through them. Annoyingly, it caused a mess of juice to explode from the tomato with a slight squelch and Weiss growled, narrowing her eyes at the antagonistic vegetable. Cooking was damn hard.

"Saw it rather than pressure it." Jaune called over his shoulder. Weiss whipped towards him and flicked the hand holding the knife. It buried into the wall an inch from Jaune's face. He stared at it for a second. "Okay, friendly reminder received."

"Aren't you going to give me back the knife?" It was hardly a question.

"You threw it, you get to grab it." Back home, a servant would have obediently done what she asked. It didn't matter how ridiculous the task Weiss would have demanded, they would do it. It didn't matter how rude she was either. Never did they question, never did they oppose, never were they _human._

But this wasn't her home, so Weiss stormed over, grabbed the knife, and slapped the flat of it on Jaune's wrist.

"Ow!" He said, frowning at her in hurt. He reacted. He was human. At home, Weiss was always alone, but here... Well, maybe cooking wasn't so bad.

She continued cutting. The slight sawing did in fact help, though she wouldn't tell Jaune that. Soon she had all the ingredients cut as she heard sizzling behind her and a strong scent wafted over her. She dumped the ingredients into the salad bowl, and then looked at it. She was pretty sure that the ingredients were supposed to be mixed in. She tried using two forks to lift and drop the salad back down, but that just made a messy lump in the middle. Most of the ingredients just ended up in a ball in the centre.

She dumped the bowl back onto the cutting board, then started layering it. Lettuce, then 3 slices of pepper, two tomato, one carrot and three cucumber arrayed perfectly on top. More lettuce, just enough to cover it, and then she repeated the process. She finished as she heard Jaune dump the chicken onto a plate, and looked at the salad disappointedly. It still wasn't really mixed.

"That might be the most organized salad I've ever seen." Jaune was leaning on the opposite side of the island, looking at Weiss.

"It's not right..." She mumbled. It wasn't perfect yet.

"Of course it is." Jaune said with an energetic bump to his voice.

"It doesn't look like a normal salad." She criticized.

"No, it looks like a Weiss salad though, and that's just as good."

She looked at him perplexed.

"Now, your chicken is ready, and your pot is soaked. Here, I'll take care of the dishes. You should really get some food up to your team." He lay a plate down in front of her with heavenly smelling chicken on it. There was some seasoning on top, and she had no idea what it was, but it made her mouth water.

She picked up the plate and grabbed the salad bowl, one in each hand, and started walking towards the door. She paused halfway through it though, and looked back at the blond haired buffoon. He was already scrubbing the pot.

"Jaune," She started and he turned to her. "Thanks," She hoped he knew she meant for more than the chicken. He smiled at her and nodded.

"Any time, Ice Queen." She would have thrown something at him again if her arms hadn't been full.

/

* * *

 **First chapter! Whoo! I've just been writing this in my spare time to get away from some of the other stuff I'm writing which is getting kind of dark. I felt like writing something fluffy, so a little bit of white knight seemed fitting. Updates should be about weekly, but will vary depending on how I have to balance my schedule. Hope you like it so far, and we can look forward to a progressive relationship between Weiss and Jaune.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Happy birthday... Second at Beacon." The voice was low and calming. Not excited and upbeat, like Ruby's, or quietly happy for her, like Blake's, but soft and understanding. He knew that birthdays weren't celebrations. Ironic, then, that he wished her a _happy_ birthday.

"Thanks," She answered numbly. She wasn't really thankful. She didn't bother looking at him. For the others she had smiled and laughed, but with him, there wasn't really a need to. A few seconds later she felt the couch cushion shift next to her.

"Nothing from them?"

'Nothing." She confirmed.

"When's the last time you got something for your birthday?"

"Ruby, Yang and Blake got me a dress today. It's quite elegant; beautiful in a simple way." It was a charcoal grey, and really accented her eyes. The dress hadn't been much of a comfort for her though. Weiss knew she could have the most delicately crafted dress on Remnant at the snap of her fingers. It was nice of them to get her something, and she did appreciate the gesture, but it was also a painful reminder.

"And from them?"

"When I was seven. Father told me that it was the last thing I would ever need, that after that, there was nothing more that was necessary in my life."

"What was it?"

Weiss didn't answer. Instead, she just curled up closer to him, finding comfort in his solid presence next to her. It wasn't solid because he was made of tightly packed matter, but rather because he was an emotional pillar. Weiss knew that she could lean on him when the entire world was tilted and skewed beyond recognition.

She wrapped her hands in the folds of his black hoodie, pulling herself against him tightly. Weiss didn't need gifts, or well wishes, or distractions, all she needed was this. It wasn't much, but it helped.

"Do you get gifts? On your birthdays I mean." It was half a distraction, and half genuine curiosity.

"Yeah," Jaune sighed a bit. "My family tries to be nice. They are, really, all things considered. They've been supportive my whole life, tried to at least, even though I've pretty much been a failure."

"But there's still the pressure, isn't there?"

"Yeah, off-hand comments and little details. My father's worse than my mother, but they both do it. Things I don't think they realize they're saying."

"I don't know if that's better or worse."

"Me neither. Having a father pressuring you constantly though, that's tough." Weiss let out a sad chuckle.

"What is it?"

"I find it funny."

"What?"

"Have you ever heardr Ruby or Yang say 'father'? To everyone but us, they're 'dads' or something. They're fathers to us." Jaune was silent for a moment.

"Almost like it's formal," He replied. "Like being a child is more of a job than anything."

"Except for Blake of course. She just doesn't talk about her parents. I suppose she might not have ever known them." Weiss mumbled into her knees. She had tucked them up to her chin. It was a vulnerable position, and she probably wouldn't have done it around any of the others. "She might not have ever known them."

"It comes back to that idea again." He said, just as flat as she felt.

"Which?"

"Is that better or worse?" Weiss sighed. She didn't know.

"I think I'm a terrible person." She commented solemnly.

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I... I wish I had never known him. I wish that I had been lost as a child, maybe put up for adoption, or never born, or that something had happened to him - that's always the worst one. Then my father could always be a hero in my mind, and not some... Some..." She struggled to find her failing words.

"Monster?" Jaune offered, and Weiss had to squeeze her eyes shut. What kind of person thought of her own father as a monster? What kind of a person wishes, in the darkest corners of her heart, that she had never known him?

The silence was uneasy for a moment. Weiss could feel a tear coming to her eye, and despite her best efforts, it streaked down her face. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, and Weiss leaned into it, closing her eyes and letting the tear fall. She only allowed herself one though.

"I don't know if it makes us terrible for not wanting to be apart of our families, but I wish I wasn't an Arc."

"It's terrifying." She said.

"It's so... Constant." Weiss could think of nothing more accurate. Permanent, crushing, constant pressure.

"I just want to be _normal,_ Jaune." That's all she had ever wanted.

"I know," He whispered softly into her ear, his hand stroking lightly through her hair. He didn't try to tell her that she was, he understood why she never could be, but his presence was comforting. If she had to face the truth, at least it might be with him by her side. She didn't know if she could do it alone.

They didn't move for a long time. Weiss just curled up beside him, allowing him to run his fingers through her hair, calming her, comforting her. The tears didn't come, and Weiss felt herself begin to relax. She breathed in his scent, which was surprisingly like pine, and had become one of her favorite smells.

"Jaune?" She asked, forcing the tears to stay down, speaking through the catch in her throat.

"Mm?"

"Can we go get some cereal?"

* * *

The water broke against the window, each drop splattering into smaller replicas as the wind drove them into the solid pane of glass. It was almost fractal in nature; an infinite repetition of smaller and smaller versions of itself. It created a steady pattering, calming, warm, and gentle. She felt him against her, and snuggled in closer. Something was playing on the tv, and she supposed that she could take interest if she wanted, but she was much more attentive to the pulsing of his heart and her own, almost magically synced in rhythm.

A gentle hand stroked her hair, and Weiss closed her eyes, allowing him to run his smooth fingers through her silky locks. She sighed in deep contentment, wanting the moment to last forever. It wasn't often she let herself go like this, and just like that little bit of chocolate cereal, the moment made her heart melt. They weren't together, not in any official capacity at least, but there was a certain intimacy to their relationship. They weren't friends, but neither did they feel the need to label what they were. It wasn't entirely a physical thing either, it was just an easiness. The relaxed, peaceful mood that came with his company.

"How's school going?" He asked her. Second semester of second year had just begun, and Weiss faced the largest course load she had at Beacon.

"Busy," She replied, not bothering to elaborate.

"Anyone you know in your classes?"

"Ruby's in advanced weapon design with me, and Pyrrha's in my combat class."

"That must be fun." Jaune said with a humorous edge to his voice.

"I'll beat her." Weiss deadpanned. She didn't like being reminded that no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't quite _perfect_ yet.

"Weiss, you're quite possibly the most exceptional person I know. You can't be the best at everything though."

"Why not?" It's what she had been told she had to be her entire life.

"Because it's impossible."

"For most people, maybe."

"Weiss..."

"Look, Jaune, it's not something I have a choice about. I'm not in the same position as everyone else. If I'm ever going to fix what my father has done, or even live up to what he expects, I can't afford to have even the slightest of flaws."

"You _don't_ though. There's nothing wrong with you, and just because someone is better at swordplay than you doesn't mean that you're bad at it."

"It means I'm not good enough at it."

A heavy sigh. Weiss wanted to pull away from him, but thinking about how much more she had to improve intimidated her slightly, and it helped to feel him next to her. She needed to feel him next to her.

"I think you might have one flaw." Weiss' stomach dropped. She didn't want to hear that, especially not from him. "You've taken the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"I didn't, it's just that-"

"You did, and I wish you could let it go for a minute." There was a genuine yearning in his voice that puzzled Weiss.

"Aren't I right now?" She asked, guilt churning in her stomach as she reminded herself of it. She really shouldn't be there relaxing with him.

"What are you thinking about now?"

"That I really should be getting back to studying." She got up and away from him. She stood, almost mechanically.

"So you're not really relaxing are you?"

"I guess not, but I need to go."

"Weiss, please-"

"I have to study."

"Just relax,"

"I can't _afford_ to relax!"

"Everyone can."

"I'm _not_ everyone. _You_ should know that better than anyone else!"

"I know, but you don't have to carry that burden. You can-"

"Jaune!" She exclaimed, rounding on him. "I know it might be _easy_ for you to brush off your family name and casually _do the least you can_ , but I _can't_!"

The words left her mouth, and Weiss gasped. Her hand drifted to her mouth, covering it in shock. The hurt on his face made her hate herself more than she already did. The regret was instant, and made it feel like someone had skewered her through the chest with a white hot blade.

"Jaune," She barely whispered. "I-"

"Fine," He cut her off, standing and walking towards the door. His face reminded her of a storm in the summer, beautiful despite the horror it entailed. "Go study," He stalked through the door and into the hall without so much as looking at her.

Weiss sat back down on the couch, tears blurring her vision. She hadn't meant to say that. No... She had. She wasn't a good person. She knew how much the weight of his family name bore down on him, that he always had to strive to be better, and it was part of why she had started to get close to him. They shared that, but Jaune was able to detach himself from it more. She envied that.

Because there was no reason for her not to, and crying was unproductive, Weiss walked over to the desk and sat down, completely numb. She dragged her notebook in front of her, opened her textbook, and grabbed her immaculate gold and silver fountain pen, a gift from her father on her seventh birthday. It's intended use was for signing paperwork, and nothing else.

She started taking notes, the ink weeping occasionally as it sank into the paper when tears blotted her writing.

* * *

"Jaune..." She was hesitant, scared even.

"Yes?" It wasn't the friendly, understanding voice she was used to. It wasn't cold either, and that scared her more. It was just perfectly neutral, like he didn't care at all; like no matter what she did, he wouldn't react. Weiss was reminded of the faceless, nameless servants back home, and she wondered if Jaune was going to be like that soon.

There was nothing more terrifying to her.

"Can we talk?"

"Yes," The butterflies swirled around her stomach, but not the good kind. It wasn't nervous anticipation, it was fear of what she expected.

"Jaune..." She trailed off. She had been hoping, in the weirdest way, that he would be mad. He wasn't though, just numb in a way. Like he wasn't responding to her.

"What do you need?"

"Are you mad?"

"No," He paused, contemplating the question for a moment. "You're right, I guess."

" _I'm not,_ " Weiss practically pleaded.

"No, you are. I'm a failure to my family, and I haven't been fighting it. I thought that maybe just being the best that I could be would be enough, not just for me but for you too; I guess it's not."

"Jaune..." It was a whimper.

"You know, I should be used to it. I just finally thought I might be good enough for someone. I thought I might not let you down." He lowered his gaze to a spot on the floor. He leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees and the common room couch squeaking slightly in response.

It felt like someone had punched Weiss in the gut. Her insides twisted violently, making her want to retch. Her breath didn't come, her lungs no longer able to function.

"I'm sorry,"

"What?" Air finally escaped her mouth with the question. There was no reply though, and the silence filled the room, almost choking Weiss. Without elaborating on why he was sorry, Jaune stood and brushed past her. Weiss' stomach dropped as he pushed past her and out the door.

It felt like the world tilted under her, and before Weiss realized what was happening, she was lying on the couch, curled up in a ball. There were tears falling down her cheeks, but she didn't feel them. Her entire body felt like it was full of pins and needles, and a deafening numbness spread through her mind. She could have sworn that someone had chiseled out her insides and replaced it with a block of ice. She started shivering, even though the early spring weather was pleasantly warm.

He couldn't leave her, not him. There had been so few people that Weiss had let into her world, and he was the closest. He was her tie to the real world, the one where people laughed and sang and were happy. Jaune was the only one who anchored her, kept her from drifting back into the sea of silhouetted faces and paperwork.

And there was some undeniable part of herself that yearned for him. It was more than him just being an anchor, it was him just existing in her world. Having him around made her happy. She had never experienced joy the way she had around him. She wanted to hold him close, feel him next to her when the ice began creeping into her heart again. She wanted him to help ward off the pain that came with the name she had been born with.

And she wanted to make him happy, too. She wanted him to live, do his best, be rewarded for all his selflessness. He deserved so much more. He deserved someone that could make him smile.

But she was an awful creature. Just like she did with everyone, she had hurt him. How could she have hurt Jaune? Of all people, he was the one she wanted to be happy the most. He deserved it for his hard work. Why couldn't she just let him be happy? Why did she have to make him miserable?

Why was she toxic to everyone she loved?

* * *

 **Wow! That was an overwhelming response! I was going to do this weekly, but I think I can release another chapter today for all y'all. Thank you guys... and sorry for this chapter (please don't hurt** **me** ). **The truth is that all real relationships have their ups and downs. I promise there will be more fluff, but not everything will be fluffy all the time.**

 **Another note is that this story won't be linear. I tried writing it in a straight progression, and it just didn't work. So, the scenes will bounce around in time. I'll drop hints near the start of each scene to indicate the time frame if that's important.**

 **I hope you're enjoy reading this! Any tips, tricks, suggestions or ideas are more than welcome, and will help me improve my writing!**


	3. Chapter 3

Weiss was sitting with her legs crossed, leaning against the edge of her bed, the sleeves of the large black hoodie she was wearing pushed up to her elbows. It smelled slightly of juniper, mixing with her lavender scent and calming her. In front of her, a few papers were scattered haphazardly and without order. She pulled a few in front of her, made a couple notes with the number 2 pencil she was using, then pushed it aside again. She returned her gaze to the report she was working on. It was a small project, one that was merely an introduction to her fourth year studies of Grimm course. In first year, she would have spent hours polishing the project and re-checking her work, but now she was a little less tense about it. Realistically, the project would not be worth much of her mark, was still likely good enough to receive an A, and she had other ways to spend her time. Better ways.

She reached her hand behind her shoulder, searching for the fingertips she knew would be resting on top of her bed sheet. She found them, and felt a soft squeeze in response. No words were spoken; no words were necessary. Weiss smiled, removed her hand, and returned to her work. In a matter of minutes, she had finished the project.

She gathered the papers into a pile, and stood, walked to the desk (where previously all of her work, without exception, had been done), stapled the stack of looseleaf, then turned away from the desk. She didn't even register the presence of the immaculate silver fountain pen with a gold weave that had sat there for the past few months, untouched.

Weiss returned to the bed and rolled over his arm, bringing it with her like she would roll over with the sheets as a child, so that when her face came up next to his it was around her shoulders.

"Hey you," He said, his focus detaching from the novel he had been reading to rest on the young woman lying on his chest, a smile splitting his lips. Rather than answering, she leaned forward and pressed herself against him, kissing him lightly. "Finished?"

"Yeah," She answered with a smile. "How's the book?"

"I'm normally not much of a reader,"

"That's evident."

" _But_ , I'm actually enjoying it. Is it one of Blake's?"

"Why does everyone assume that Blake is the only one to read?"

"Novels? Because Yang and Ruby are, well, Yang and Ruby, and you seem less like a fiction girl."

"More like the kind of person to fill out worksheets and analyze quotas." She turned over and away from him, her back to his side. She hated how much she resembled the person she had always feared she would be.

"You've read this one then?" Jaune said, rolling over and hugging her, turning her around and bringing her back with him so that she ended up laying on top of him again.

"That's the one about the man with two souls."

"Yeah,"

"That one _is_ Blake's." She sighed.

"But you have books too, right?"

"Yeah," Weiss replied wistfully. She loved reading. It provided an escape from the world. As much as she had become the person she was scared of, Weiss had done her best to maintain some semblance of an identity for herself. Reading was one of the few ways she could chip the mould her father had cast around her.

"What did you think of it?"

"It's one of the best."

"Seems a bit far-fetched."

"It's a novel dimwit. The point is to be unrealistic but still prove a point about us."

"A man with two souls though?"

"It's not about having two souls, it's about what they represent. One of them gets dominated by the other, even though he hates the dominant half of his soul. It's easy for him to become the person he hates, it's easy for him to give in. It's so much harder for him to become the man he ends up being, and he has to work for it, but in the end it's the best way to go."

"It takes him a long time to figure it out. I mean, it's obvious which half of his soul is the better half. Besides, people aren't so..." He paused here, scrunching up his face in concentration. "What's the word... Polar?"

"You don't think that we're kind of like that though? Constantly at war with ourselves, trying to figure out whether to do what's easy or what's right, and even figuring out which is which. And the struggle he has, the trials he goes through, to try to break from that spirit? It gives you a little hope, doesn't it?"

Jaune studied her closely, ocean blue melting frosted ice.

"We're not talking about books, are we?"

"This is the moment you decide not to be dense?" She deadpanned. "Seriously, I was trying to get you to ask me out for so long. Hell, in first year, Pyrrha was chasing after you like a mad dog. And this, right here, is when you decide to be perceptive?" He leaned up and touched his nose to hers.

"Maybe someone's rubbing off on me." She smiled a bit.

"I liked you better when you were a dunce."

"You know you can do it though, right?"

"Mm?" She had forgotten what they were talking about thanks to his proximity. He muddled her mind.

"I know it's hard for you with your father, but you're a good person Weiss. You might not believe it, but it's true. I think you know what's right, and if you want to work towards breaking from what your father's imposed on you, I'll be right here."

Butterflies flitted through Weiss' stomach and her finger's tingled. There was a look of absolute dedication and devotion on his face, one of complete trust, and one that Weiss knew she could trust in turn. Of course she wanted to do it, and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to.

All she needed was a little help.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself down so their lips met, smiling against his mouth. After a warm moment, they broke apart.

"What was that-"

"I love you." The words fell out of Weiss' mouth before she could reign them in. Her eyes flared open, and she pulled away, standing and stepping back, covering her mouth in shock.

 _Oh no,_ the thought locked her mind. She just stared at Jaune, completely stunned at what she had said. That hadn't been supposed to happen. What if he didn't feel the same? What if her saying that was too much pressure? What if she had just ruined it? What if he didn't want to be with her anymore? What if he didn't want to talk to her again because she was a stupid idiot, a stupid little girl who-

Weiss' train of thought shattered as she was pulled into a warm embrace. Jaune had stood, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I love you too, Weiss."

The words melted her, and Weiss relaxed as she buried her face in the crook between his shoulder and chest. They just stood there for a long time, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

He loved her.

No one had said that to her before.

Weiss smiled merrily as she raised her head to kiss him again.

All the while, a little silver and gold fountain pen gathered dust in the corner.

* * *

Weiss laughed as she was swung around, her charcoal grey dress luffing in the air as Jaune twirled her around and around. She giggled and smiled, feeling like a young woman ought to on her graduation night. Jaune caught her as she came out of a twirl and dipped her, his eyes glimmering mischievously as he looked at her briefly. Then he leaned in, and Weiss closed her eyes. It was a quick peck, but to her, it might as well have lasted an eternity, ripping the breath from her lungs and flushing her face.

As she came out of the dip, she felt one arm drawn across her body, and twisted with it, his arms wrapping around her and her back pressing up against Jaune. He trailed a few kisses down the side of her neck as they swayed lightly from side to side in time with the music.

"Punch?" He asked after a moment.

"Please," She answered, and he broke away from her by reversing his previous move.

"Just a second,"

Weiss moved to the edge of the room, leaning up against one of the ballroom pillars as she watched him weave through the crowd towards the red fruit punch.

"You two seem to be enjoying yourselves." Weiss checked the source of the voice to see Yang standing next to her.

"It's quite a pleasant evening." She answered. "How about you?"

For a split second, Yang looked slightly crestfallen as her eyes flicked towards the dance floor, but it was so momentary Weiss thought she might have imagined it.

"It's good," Yang replied unconvincingly.

"Mm?" Weiss questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Things are good."

"Are they?"

"Great, actually."

"Yang?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't lie to me." Yang studied her for a moment, lilac eyes studying glacial ones.

"Yeah, alright." Yang's gaze found its way to the dance floor where a certain faunus, dressed in a royal purple, was dancing with Sun. Weiss was still surprised they had managed to get him into a suit again, though that probably had no small part to do with his dancing partner.

"Not easy, is it?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah, but what can I do?"

"Tell her." Weiss said it as simply as she could. It was a simple action after all, though she knew that it really wasn't.

"She's a girl."

"Are you going to tell me girls are gross? Because I would take exception to that."

"No, it's just that she's a girl, and so am I."

"Is that an issue?"

"It might be. She might not like girls."

"Do you know?"

"No..."

"Is there any way for you to know."

"Other than to tell her?"

"Yes,"

"No,"

"Exactly." Weiss saw Jaune weaving back through the crowd holding two solo cups, presumably filled with sweet juice.

"Easy for you to say." Yang grumbled next to her, and Weiss smiled.

"Aren't you going to compliment my dress?" Weiss asked the woman next to her, twirling around for show. Yang looked down at Weiss' attire for the first time. Her mouth opened a little in shock as she realized it was the gift that the rest of team RWBY had given Weiss in second year.

"Why are you wearing that?" Weiss' smile grew.

"Because it's my favourite dress." She said, taking the cup that Jaune offered her as he approached. "Now, we're going to enjoy our evening, care to join us?" Weiss cocked an eyebrow at Yang, who smiled back.

"Alright," She said, but rather than staying with Jaune and Weiss, she walked off to the dance floor as the song ended, to where the woman that Yang so obviously cared for was curtsying to her most recent dance partner.

"That seems counter-intuitive." Jaune commented, slurping slightly as he sipped from his cup.

"Not in the least," Weiss grinned behind the edge of her own cup, taking a shy sip of her own punch. They enjoyed their drinks for a moment, Weiss glad that Yang had gotten over trying to convince everyone to spike them. She was enjoying the moment, and felt no need to alter it through outside means. There was no real way for her to be happier than she was. There was no need for anything else.

She was just happy, absolutely and utterly content. Not a thing could go wrong for her, not tonight. She smiled and leaned up and kissed Jaune quickly. He smiled back at her, running his fingers through her hair and tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

"I love you," She murmured, hugging him.

"Love you too, Ice Queen." She laughed.

* * *

 **So... this is the chapter where they drop the L word. Concerning time skips, I've decided I'm going to take turns alternating between a few different story arcs in a way where they kind of coincide with one another, leading up to the end. I've decided that the last two chapters will be the day where all of it starts (so yes, there will be more lead up to the first chapter), and the day where all of it ends. Decided to throw back to fluffiness for a chapter, but we're not done here. Not by a long shot.**

 **Since you've all responded so fantastically, I decided on releasing this early as I already had it typed up. From now on though, I'll be dropping into a weekly schedule.**

 **Thanks for reading! And hope you're enjoying it!**


	4. Chapter 4

She stared at the wall. It was almost vacant, she felt. Her mind. Things, abstract and unformed, whispered through it at odd intervals. They weren't fully formed, but she didn't need fully formed. They were snippets of thought, but the ideas were there. She didn't need to put an exact definition on them to understand them.

She had been staring at the spot on the wall for longer than she cared to know. She wasn't sobbing the way most teenage girls did when their closest friend - or whatever he was - didn't want to be around them anymore. It wasn't angst, it wasn't necessarily quantifiable. Just as she was having issues focusing on her thoughts, so to did she have trouble understanding what she felt. It was new.

She longed for the ice.

In the weirdest of ways, being the way she had been before was easy. It was oh so _easy._ The more she distanced herself from everyone, the easier it was. She had been able to ignore him for the entirety of first year, then, one conversation on a bench changed her world. The foundation of it had been rocked.

She thought it had been for the better. Weiss knew that she hadn't been happy, quite the opposite actually. Misery was an overused word, but when broken down to its fundamental points, it had described her quite perfectly. She had never admitted it at the time, but, as things always are, it was clearer looking back. So, when she had felt the first twinges of some sort of cracking in her shell, she hadn't fought so hard. Weiss was not half as talented as she should have been, but one of the things she was nearly good enough at was hurting others. She was sure she could have turned him away with less than a single sentence.

Weiss had made the decision not to. She had slowly let him in, ever so slowly allowed her carefully cultivated carapace to be pried open. She had watched it in a sort of nervous anticipation, not wanting it but at the same time never, ever wanting it to stop. He had chiseled away at her until her heart had started to flare with a previously unknown heat. It had been a beautiful thing. Uncomfortable for a short while, but ultimately more ecstatically pleasant than anything she had ever experienced. He _electrified_ her, and every time she was with him, she felt that ice fade into the ever so distant horizon.

The ice was never going to return, and there was nothing she longed for more. It had made her miserable before, but maybe misery was underrated. Because what she was feeling now was so much worse.

It was a void. An utter, inescapable, all consuming void. There was no emotion that made Weiss want to scream or break or run. It was the complete and utter lack of anything. When she ate, it was a mechanical motion, the fueling of the machine that was her body and housed absolutely nothing. Her mind was a binary organism, computing data but feeling nothing. Sentiment was a distant memory, and that warmth that had opened up in her world had been smothered; the brief flicker of hope doused and stomped on for good measure. She asked herself whether it was better or worse to have known that feeling and then had it ripped away from her, and she knew the answer.

It was irrefutably worse.

Weiss wanted to hate him for it, because hating would be something. She had tried screaming into her pillow, but it had been hollow and empty. She thought that maybe she would break down crying as her elevated voice died down, but she just lay on her bed, her body completely relaxing, and she had simply faded from the world.

Numb.

She couldn't hate him for it though. It was entirely her fault. It had been her who had shouted those disgusting, volatile words. They had seeped from her mouth like a snake's venom, but rather than sinking into his skin, it had found its way into her heart. It had festered and corrupted, and when she woke from the pain, she had found that there was no heart anymore.

There was the soft swinging of the door on its hinges, and though Weiss registered it, she didn't respond. She was still staring at the wall, noticing absently that there was a small circle on the wall near the center of her focus that seemed brighter. It was for no other reason than she had been staring at it for so long.

"Weiss?" It was Ruby.

"Yes?" She answered vacantly, still staring at the wall.

"That's the third day this week you've skipped classes."

"Is it?"

"Yep,"

"Funny, I hadn't noticed." It wasn't a lie. She hadn't paid attention to time before.

"Weiss, I don't know what happened, but this is important. School's important. You're the one in first year who kept telling me that I had to do my homework and pay attention in class. We have two more years after this semester ends; you can't just give up on all of that."

"School is a system for exposing you to knowledge. When I want, I can learn everything I need to."

"Catching up isn't the problem, we all know you're smart enough too."

"So then there's no problem."

"There is."

"What could possibly be the issue?"

"You don't _care_ anymore. If you ever want to be a huntress, you're the one who said it was a job. If you don't care about your job, you can't be any good at it." A frown crossed Weiss' brow briefly. It wasn't that she was invested in the peculiarity, she was simply curious. Where on Remnant had Ruby gotten that idea?

"At what point in time was I ever going to be a huntress?" Weiss actually turned to look at her partner briefly only to find her crestfallen.

"Weiss..." It was the whisper of a breeze, so slight that Weiss only knew the word from the movement of Ruby's lips. "That's... Why we're here. Make the world a better place, do our job."

"As I always was going to, I'm going to work at the Schnee Dust Company. It was an inevitability from the day I was born. Being a huntress was a childish dream."

" _Weiss_ ," This time the voice was stern. Weiss thought that maybe at some point that might have made her more invested in the conversation. "I don't know what happened between you and Jaune, but you can't let it affect you like this." Weiss had nothing to say, so she stayed silent. Ruby huffed in exasperation. "Weiss, you need to talk to him. Every day in class he's been a statue. Whatever happened, it's ruining both of you, and the only way it will get better is if you talk it out. Fix this."

"I can't, Ruby." Weiss dropped her focus to a point between her feet.

"Of course you can."

"And what will that accomplish?"

"I don't know. Maybe you'll hate each other. Maybe you'll fix this. I don't know, but whatever happens, it has to be better than... _This._ " Ruby said, spreading her hands to indicate the general space around Weiss.

"I don't think that Jaune wants to talk to me anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because he knows who I am now."

"What is that even supposed to mean Weiss?" There was genuine caring in the younger girl's voice. It was like she was pleading to Weiss, begging for answers to questions to vague to be asked.

"I'm poison Ruby. I wither away the life of anyone near me. I can blame my father, I can blame the White Fang, I can blame a million different things, but it won't change who I am. I'm venomous Ruby. I drag the life out of the world around me, and the best any of you can do is to stay away." She thought for a moment.

"The best thing Jaune can do is to stay away before I hurt him anymore."

* * *

 **Why can't I just write fluffy stuff? Next chapter will be happy, promise.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Weiss, I know I've been a bit distant lately, but I've been thinking a lot." The slightest twinge of something shot through Weiss, and then the void returned.

"What kinds of things have you been thinking?" He was stood in the doorway, and she was sitting on the inside corner of her bed, back pressed to the wall and knees tucked to her chin. It was a position she had found herself in a lot the past few days.

"About what you said." Weiss had to close her eyes tightly, trying to shield herself from the physical anguish that accompanied the guilt released by those words.

"Jaune, I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter if you meant it or not." Weiss looked up from the messy folds of her bed. She had been frowning at them. Her bed never got messy, it was always pristine and in peak form. "You said what you said, and you meant for it to hurt."

"I-" She broke off, unsure of what to say. Weiss _had_ meant to hurt him, even though she hated every fibre of her body for it. The numbness was fading with his presence, but she couldn't tell if that was better or worse. It was being replaced by pangs of guilt and fear, and she almost wanted that empty void to return.

"It worked, if that makes you feel better."

"What?"

"It did hurt."

"Jaune, you _need_ to know that I don't want you to hurt."

"Doesn't feel that way."

"I just- I-"

"You what? Don't think you have to work harder than everyone else to live up to your family name?"

"No- It's just- Jaune-"

"You don't think that I'm letting you down because I'm not doing the same? Because I'm trying to break from that unattainable mould? Perfection doesn't exist Weiss."

"I never claimed to be perfect."

"And that's the problem. You _obsess_ over little flaws. You don't think you're perfect, but you still want to be. You hate yourself for it."

"I do _not_ hate myself-"

"Don't lie to me Weiss."

Silence.

"I just want to be good enough..."

"Why can't you see that you already are?" It was a soft, comforting whisper. The kind that Weiss had missed that week.

"I'll never be good enough. Not for _him._ "

"He doesn't matter Weiss."

"Of course he does. Everything I've ever done, it's been because _he_ wanted it. The only thing that I ever wanted to do was to be a huntress. He's entertained the idea only because he thinks it will help the family image. Make us look better. But, the second I graduate, I'm going to be gone Jaune. I'll be in Atlas. I'll be working. I won't ever get to help a human or faunus soul. I'll probably learn how to hate the faunus again. All of them, not just the White Fang. I wonder if Blake would hate me now if she knew who I was going to be."

As she finished speaking, she squeezed her eyes closed. She pressed her forehead into her knee, feeling the sob come. They had disappeared for the last few days, the tears. They had gone, but now they were back. She just wanted Jaune to hug her again. Tell her it was going to be okay, that she wasn't going to turn into a monster. That she didn't have to be a Schnee.

The bed bounced a bit as new weight fell on it, and Weiss looked up over the hill of her knees to see Jaune. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his skin tinted gold by the bedside lamp that served as the only source of light in the otherwise gloomy room. He didn't look at her though. He just stared at a spot on the floor.

"I talked to Ruby earlier." Weiss remembered the conversation. It had been like she had been a passive observer in her body. Everything running on autopilot. Words came out of her mouth without meaning or feeling. Just empty notions from an empty corpse.

"She's worried Weiss. We all are. I-" His voice broke. "I haven't wanted to come talk to you. It hurt Weiss, you throwing my failure in my face. I'm reminded of it every single day. I'm getting better, but I'm still near the bottom in pretty much every class. I _know_ I'm not good."

"..."

"But that wasn't the worst of it. It's that _you_ _knew_ it would hurt. If it had been Ruby, or Ren, or any of the others who had said it, it wouldn't have been as bad. It would be an honest assessment. None of it was a lie.

"They don't understand it though. And you do. You know what it's like to have a family constantly pressuring you, making you feel worthless, like you're not enough. That no matter what you do, it could have been better. You know what it feels like. The others, they might understand on some level, but _you_ know."

"Jaune..." There were tears in her eyes now. They weren't tears for herself though, as they normally were.

"You know that it's the worst thing in my life, and you wanted to hurt me. Weiss, I don't know what we are, but I know I felt close to you." She couldn't help but notice the past tense. Her stomach dropped. "I just need to know if you resent me."

He turned to her then, and she could see a wet sheen covering his stormy eyes. There was fear in there. Apprehension. He wanted her to accept him - no - he needed it. His whole life, he had been rejected by everyone he had met. His family first, then any friends he tried to make. At Beacon, he had found his team, but then they had found each other.

But he wasn't perfect. That was always Weiss' goal. She had to be perfect. For her father. Everything about her had to be pristine and unshakeable. Her hair was done perfectly every morning, she had never gotten lower than an 'A' on any homework assignment, and she had closed out many business deals by playing the part of the beautiful, charming daughter of the wealthy businessman. In those aspects, she was close.

Then there was combat class. She was battling for _third_. Pyrrha and Ruby both had her beat, and Yang, Blake and Nora were all competing with her for the final podium spot. She was failing as a huntress in training - failing because she wasn't the best. She wasn't even close.

And her friends? Pyrrha was a celebrity, Ruby was the youngest student to attend Beacon, Yang, Blake, Nora and Ren were all very competent.

But Jaune...

Jaune wasn't close to perfect. He tripped himself more often than others in sparring matches. His grades were sub-par. She supposed he was attractive enough, and becoming more so each year. He had broad shoulders and a muscular body, his jaw was hard and he had defined cheekbones now. The baby fat from first year had disappeared in the long hours of combat training he had done with Pyrrha. Other than that though, Jaune Arc was full of flaws. If she associated with him, it would mar her image. Make her less perfect, if only by association.

Part of the reason she had avoided him so much in first year was because of that. He wasn't perfect. She had to be perfect. The logic was evident.

Yet, she was drawn to him. Every time that she thought about her family, she wanted him to be there. He had been all year. Certainly part of it was that he understood her plight, but the other half was that he cared. She knew that he genuinely wanted to help her. And she wanted him to help. Part of her wanted to help him, too.

Her mind screamed at her that yes, she resented him for being her friend when he was so far from what she strove to become.

Her heart told her she could never, ever blame him for who he was. In the strangest of ways, he _was_ perfect for her. Not at math or Grimm studies or swordplay, but just because he was there.

They were friends.

"No," she whispered, so softly that she wondered if he had heard it.

No later than the syllable had exited her mouth did she find herself covered in a warm embrace. She let out a sob, a tear streaking into the fabric of his shoulder. She wept, hugging him, but not out of sadness. This was relief.

She knew that she would never have let herself cry on anyone else's shoulder. It made her look weak and vulnerable. But she was. She knew it, and Jaune knew it, and he could help. They were both vulnerable.

But he had forgiven her.

She squeezed him tightly, the tears drying up. They just held each other tightly for a moment, and Weiss smiled.

It had been a long time since she had smiled.

* * *

 **So... hopefully that makes up for last chapter? A bit? I think next we're going to move back to grad for a little while.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reconciliation a little bit. Normally, I would switch perspectives to show Jaune's point of view and why he made the decision to talk to her, but the story is about Weiss. We know what she knows. Maybe she finds out later...**

 **Thanks for reading! As per usual, thoughts, comments, suggestions and critiques are always welcome. I want to make sure you guys can enjoy this as much as possible!**

 **-Unjax**


	6. Chapter 6

"Happy birthday!" He had a goofy smile on his face.

"What," She accused. "Have you done?"

"Nothing," He replied with a worrying glint in his eye.

"Jaune..." She warned.

"Yet," He admitted with a shrug.

"What is it?"

"Well, I was thinking-"

"Something you should generally avoid."

"Hey, feelings, I have them you know."

"Point, get to it."

"I was trying until you started insulting me. I mean, I know that you hate me, but-"

"Jaune, I am _this_ close to freezing you."

"Fine, so, I was thinking-"

"You said that already." His eyes bugged out at her interruption, and Weiss let out a little laugh, then gave him a hug.

" _Anyhow,"_ He growled, "I was thinking about birthday gifts."

"Oh," Weiss lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling less happy. She removed her arms from around him.

"And there was the question of what to get you."

"Jaune, you know you didn't need to-"

"No, I did. But, of course, I know that I can't buy you anything. There's really not a whole lot that I can give you that you couldn't get within ten minutes somehow else."

"Yeah, I know." Weiss mumbled, suddenly feeling like she wanted to crawl into a ball. Birthdays were hard for her.

"Then I thought, well, there's one thing I can give you that no one else can."

"Mm?" She asked, though she was hardly paying attention.

"Weiss, this works better if you look at me." She did. He still had that goofy grin on his face.

"Jaune, please, I really don't want anything." He just looked into her eyes.

Then, suddenly, there was a second pair of lips against her own.

Weiss' eyes shot open in surprise, but after a moment, she eased into it, her eyelids drifting closed. She felt her entire body relax, and she felt herself drawn into him. She was left gasping in shock a moment later when he removed his lips from her, but she clung to his shirt.

"Happy birthday," He repeated, and Weiss smiled at him. She leaned up on her tippy toes and gave him another kiss.

"It just might be, Arc."

"It gets better." He said with that wicked grin.

"Does it now?"

"Significantly,"

"That good?"

"Better."

"You may be over selling."

"Eh, it depends on whether you actually like me at all, or if it's just an act."

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. They were soft and pleasant, comfortable and familiar. She felt him relax, and she pulled him down with her onto the bed. As they landed, he rolled her over so that she was laying on the side of his body. She rested her hand on his chest, making invisible doodles on it.

"If I didn't like you, would I have done that?" He laughed.

"I think just the kiss would have proven your point." She shrugged.

"I know, I just wanted to do that." He smiled even wider and leaned up to give her a kiss. She let it linger for a moment, then broke it off. "So, what's the surprise?"

"Well it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you." She rolled her eyes.

"Only if you told me before."

"Well, since you haven't been surprised yet, it _is_ still before."

" _Jaune,_ by that logic you can never surprise me. Because every moment before the surprise you still wouldn't have told me, so then you can't tell me. _"_ He grinned stupidly.

"What's the most romantic thing in the world?"

"Chocolates and roses."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Damn, that would have been _way_ easier."

"There are a lot of things that are more romantic actually."

"How do you feel about picnics?"

"That's what you thing is the most romantic thing in the world?"

"Well... Maybe not out of everything, but it's pretty good, right?"

"It could be better."

"Are you saying you don't want to go on a picnic?"

"Depends on who's going."

"Just us," She smiled softly.

"Then yeah, I want to go."

"Alright Snow Angel." She burst out laughing. "What?" He asked indignantly.

"Never again," She said, getting off his chest and standing up. He rolled off the bunk to stand next to her, naturally slipping her hand into his hand. "Now, let's go have a picnic."

* * *

Weiss giggled as she was dragged through the hallway behind Jaune. She was glad she was used to walking in heels, because her silver stilettos offered her almost no balance whatsoever. As it was though, she was able to keep pace behind him, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

Her charcoal grey dress moved against her skin softly, sliding like water. She wondered how much it had cost Yang, Blake and Ruby. She wondered if she should pay them back, then chastised herself. It was a gift. The point of gifts was that they were given.

"Where are we going?" It occurred to her that she hadn't a clue.

"Back to the dorms."

"Jaune Arc! I'd expect you to buy me dinner first."

"I _have_. A lot. Expensive ones too."

"Are you saying my love can be bought?"

"What? You're the one who said-"

"Why the dorms?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"Are your intentions honest?"

"I hope so. I just have to stop and pick up a few things."

"Maybe I wouldn't mind if they weren't." She said with a giggle, grinning at him. He stopped for a moment, jaw practically smashing into the floor, and she had to let out a laugh. "Come on you dunce."

"I think I'm more of a Prince Charming." _Smooth recovery,_ she commented silently.

"If you're any prince, you're the frog one."

"You know that we _are_ dating, right?"

"We could change that." She deadpanned, and his eyes opened in mock fear. She giggled and leaned up on her tip-toes and pecked him on the cheek.

"What would you do without me though?"

"Be a billionaire," The answer was tongue and cheek, but not untrue.

"So," He mused, absently taking her hand and twirling her around as though they were dancing. He sometimes did that. It made her smile. "True love, or ludicrous amounts of money?"

"Mm, true love now?"

"Is there really fake love? You know what, now we're getting far too philosophical."

"Too philosophical for what?"

"For this," He said, grabbing her waist as she fell out of the twirl and pressing lightly on the small of her back. The distance between them evaporated and he looked deeply into her eyes. She got lost for a second, gazing up into those deep, trusting pools.

Weiss' breath hitched as his eyes closed and he leaned forward. Her eyelids fluttered as they shut, feeling his soft, tender lips glide against her own. He didn't kiss her quite yet, holding her close and trailing the premonitions of what she longed for across her smooth cheek, the tip of her nose, her lips, her neck. Then they found her quivering lips again, trembling from the crashing pulse of her heart, beating wicked fast.

He pressed into her, and she felt the unconsciously held breath release from her body as she sighed into the first moment of the kiss. She grabbed at him desperately, needing to feel the assurance of his presence, needing to constantly remind herself that he was _there_. He cared, and wanted her, and was _always_ there for her. He would never leave her, of that she was certain.

Weiss' lips parted slightly, asking for the increased intimacy. She wanted all the barriers between them to melt just as her heart was. She felt his tongue tease the edge of her sensitive lip. The kiss deepened, and she allowed herself to lose every rational thought, getting caught up in the ecstasy of the moment. A perfect little moment stolen from the scraps of an imperfect world. Just like every moment with him was.

It lasted a long time, but they eventually broke apart. Weiss gasped as their lips parted, sucking in a deep breath and tucking her head into the nook of his shoulder. They stood there for a long time, his hand slowly rubbing circles on her back. Something welled up inside her heart, and she squeezed him more tightly for a second.

"Felicity," It was a faint whisper.

"Sorry?"

"Right now," The words came low and soft. "It's perfect. Tonight is perfect."

"I'll make a note to graduate more often." She smiled into his jacket.

"I don't think it's graduation, Jaune. It's you." He was silent, and she pulled away from him. Just enough to meet his eyes once more. "You're what makes this perfect."

* * *

 **Sorry for the late update everyone. Won't bore you with the details, but there were some fallouts in my personal life. Writing fluffy stuff was a little more difficult this week, so I hope it didn't disappoint.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you're enjoying it! As always, any thoughts, comments, criticisms, reviews or suggestions are appreciated. I'm still working on getting better at writing, and this story is a bit outside my usual style. So, anything you guys/gals have to say always helps me improve the next chapter. Speaking of, I'll try and get back onto the Friday release schedule for this week.**

 **-Unjax**


	7. Chapter 7

Weiss absently twirled her pen around in her fingers, sitting on the hard wooden bench by the airstrip of Beacon. It was the beginning of fall, and the warm summer breezes had yet to abandon the Valian air. She watched numbly as a few airships landed and others took off. Few students got out of these ships though. They were for the early returners, and what students in their right minds would want to abandon their families to go back to school?

Weiss might have laughed at the thought at the end of first year, but now, returning for her second, she was just numb. Any humour she had found in her teammates and friends during first year had faded to the back of her mind, replaced by the cold and calculating mindset she had been forced to adopt. Spending time with her family did that to her. The Schnees were renowned, and at social events Weiss was a master at appearing cheery and charming, but at dinner tables and breakfasts, the only way she could survive was to shut down. Go numb. Freeze her heart.

She had decided to bring her pen with her this year. The silver and gold of it wrapped around in an intricate pattern; it was one of the most expensive writing instruments that money could buy. It would be a grim reminder of the family she would return to, and that she should not let herself become too attached to her 'friends' this year.

"Hey Weiss," Confusion crossed her mind as she registered who was speaking. It was Jaune Arc, resident idiot. She didn't bother answering. Despite this, he sat himself down next to her. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Curt, short, unkind.

"You came back early?" She briefly registered how tired he sounded, but dismissed it. She had no reason to care.

"It's important to arrive early to be prepared for the upcoming year."

"Well, that's a load of crock if I've ever heard one." She looked at him in shock. She was used to him flirting with her, pretending that everything she said was the single most important thing that had ever been said. He reminded her a little of a dog last year.

"Sorry," Last year he would have stammered when he apologized. "I'm just a little exhausted."

"I understand," She responded. She knew how weary she felt after the summer. It would take her a long time to work up to forcing smiles and pretending to be engaged in her team.

There was silence for a moment. Neither of them spoke, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was two people, knowing how the other felt.

"Why are you back early?" She had to ask. She knew why she had come back, but she had no reason to believe that Jaune had any reason to come back.

"I..." He leaned forward, elbows resting on knees and hands clasped loosely between his legs. "I just couldn't stay."

She was astounded at how he sounded saying it. In those words he had captured exactly how she felt about her own home. Fear, anger, worry, shame, pressure... She just couldn't stay any longer. Not another hour, not a day, and certainly not the other week that it would have taken for the other students to return.

She just couldn't stay.

"How about you?"

"Hm? I already said." He chuckled. Not laughter, just a disbelieving chuckle.

"Alright,"

There, another silence. The grander silence before he had sat next to her had indeed been uncomfortable, filled with thoughts of the summer and fear of the coming year. But now she didn't think about those. She just sat, his uncharacteristically calm presence next to her.

"Don't you like your home?" She asked.

"I don't like that word. Never did."

"What word would you use instead?"

"Hm, I like prison." He said it like it was a joke, but she saw a glint of sadness in his ocean blue eyes. She had never noticed that they were an oceanic shade of blue before.

Time passed, and Weiss was comfortable. Without realizing it, she tucked her pen into her pocket, where it could be forgotten, if only for a short period of time.

"So, I, uh, since we're the only two back, um, do you-"

"Shut up," She cut him off. "Shut up and just sit with me."

He sat beside her, no doubt with a shocked expression on his face. Then the bench shifted slightly as he sat against its back.

"Yeah, okay."

And they just sat there, watching empty airships arrive and depart. It was somewhat like watching the waves of the ocean come in and out. Calming, rhythmic, and generally only peaceful with the right company.

She doubted they would be friends, she had vowed not to be friends with anyone that year, but for now, she could just enjoy his company. The fact that he understood her. And somehow, she had come to understand him. Just a little.

But, somehow, Weiss found Jaune Arc to be the right company for that moment.

And in time, she would come to find his company right for every moment.

But nothing lasts, something Weiss had always known in the back of her mind. Especially when it comes to people, nothing ever lasts.

* * *

"You'll take care of him, right?" The bench was cold and hard beneath her. Last time she had sat on it had been a long time ago, really meeting Jaune for the first time. She had known him before that, of course, but she hadn't _known_ him.

"Weiss, I don't understand. If you care about him, why would you go?"

"You care about him, don't you Pyrrha?"

"..."

"I know it doesn't make much sense, but it's not a choice."

"We always have choices Weiss, and you're making the wrong one."

"Shouldn't you be happy about this? I know you think he deserves better than me."

"No! Weiss, I don't-"

"It's fine, you're right. He does. I hope you can be that for him. With enough time."

"How I feel is... irrelevant. You're going to hurt him."

"I know, that's why I'm talking to you."

"If it's going to hurt him, why would you do it?"

"Because I have to. It's my duty. Even though every bit of me screams that it feels wrong, it's the right thing to do. It's not a choice."

"You know it's wrong, Weiss, can't you just admit it?"

"..."

"Wouldn't he benefit from hearing this?"

"No... I don't know. Maybe." She didn't mention why she couldn't talk to him - not now. He was the only one who could change her mind. She loved him, and she would do the wrong thing if she let herself slip in front of him. And her last memory of him had been so perfect. Felicity had been the right word. How could she mar that perfect farewell?

"So why don't you tell him?"

"I can't."

"You're saying that a lot Weiss." It was the first time that Weiss had heard anger in the kind redhead's voice. Pyrrha had always been polite to her, even though there was a conflict of interests in her feelings. Weiss did feel guilty that she had robbed Pyrrha of her chance with Jaune. She would probably have been better for him. But Weiss was selfish, she knew that.

"It's because I don't have any control over any of this."

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but you're lying. If it comforts you, fine, but don't make him suffer for it."

"I..." She couldn't find the words. Pyrrha needed to do this, it was the only way. "Pyrrha, please. You can't change my mind. This is happening, whether either of us likes it or not. Please, would you do this for me?"

Silence for a moment. Weiss wondered how often Pyrrha had to make a personal decision. She tended to tag along with others' decisions and help them, but rarely made choices for herself.

"What do you need?" Weiss scoffed.

"I don't need or deserve anything. It's Jaune. He needs someone to be there for him. I don't know if he'll ever tell you everything, but that's for him to tell. All I know is that he needs someone there for him, and I can't be. I know you care for him as much as I do, hell, what do I know? Maybe even more. He just needs someone."

"..."

"Isn't this what you want?"

"I never wanted him to get hurt. I was terrified when you started to date. Do you remember second year? I don't know what you did to him, but you weren't even dating then. If you could hurt him that badly then... I don't know what this will do to him now." Compassion and sorrow filled her voice.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"How could I? He loves you Weiss, more than you know. He has for a long time. How could I stand in the way of him being with the one person he cares about? You made him happy."

Weiss did not miss the severe, extreme sadness in those words.

"He can love others."

"I don't know if he can. Weiss, he gave himself to you completely. He has a good heart and is always willing to help, to be kind, and he can make anyone laugh, but he's also guarded. He doesn't trust anyone much. I... I've tried to get close with him. But it was always you Weiss. You're the one he needs."

"For now, but when I'm gone he's going to need someone else. He's going to need someone that's always been there for him, even if it's just a comforting hug at first. You're his partner, his friend, and everyone knows how dependable you are. Pyrrha, you can be more to him. This is a chance for you." A heavy sigh.

"Don't pretend that this is a favor to me. If I must, I will help Jaune, but I'd rather it was unnecessary."

"You'd prefer to live your entire life watching the man you love with another so he wouldn't get hurt?" Green eyes darted to the floor. There was a tear in them.

"I'd spend an eternity watching him be happy with another if it saved him from pain."

Weiss was silent for a minute. That one sentence held more love, devotion and selflessness than Weiss thought she would ever be capable of. Pyrrha cared for Jaune. She loved him more than she loved herself, and she was exactly the kind of person that Jaune needed. Weiss had grown close with Jaune because of her family, the shared burden they carried, but it had always been about her. Maybe they had helped each other, but Jaune had been her lighthouse, her savior, and she knew it was never the other way around. He just needed someone who could be there for him. Maybe he had thought that was her, but he was wrong.

Weiss had chased perfection for a long time. She thought that, at least, she could be perfect for one, single person.

But she wasn't.

Pyrrha might be though.

"You-" The word snapped as her voice cracked. A tear fell from her eyes that she didn't realize was there. Weiss took a breath, shaky from the tremors racing through her body. "You're right for him Pyrrha. He'll love you, I know that much. And you love him. That's all I'm asking. Just don't sabotage your own happiness on my behalf anymore. He'd have always been happier with you."

There was silence, perhaps a sort of silent understanding, but she couldn't be sure. Weiss hoped that Pyrrha would see it that way.

"Have you enjoyed it?" Pyrrha's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"Yeah," Weiss smiled. There was no single memory, but just a sentiment that surrounded her time at Beacon: warmth, care, escape... Every single one of those moments was golden and sacred. "It's been the best time of my life."

"I know you don't think you have a choice, but I wish you could see you did. I'm glad you enjoyed your time here Weiss, because I fear you may never enjoy anything again."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't be."

Another silence.

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right."

* * *

 **Please don't kill me... Not yet anyhow...**

 **There will be more. Some of it before this moment, and some of it after. Some fluff, some not... This scene will make sense soon enough.**

 **And we also see the first time Weiss and Jaune enjoy each other's company... So there's that. Right?**

 **-Unjax**


	8. Chapter 8

She tapped the gold and silver pen against the desk, then turned it over to sign the sheet. She proceeded to flip the sheet into a large stack of paper on the corner of the desk and reached to grab another from the opposite side of it. The papers were stacked at least a foot high on either side of the desk, one pile completed and the other waiting to be so, and there was another pile next to her high-back leather chair. It didn't swivel, and that made it difficult for Weiss to move, but, of course, it was necessary.

She looked at the expenditure report in front of her and sighed. She reached into a drawer on the side of her large oak desk and withdrew an eggshell folder. It was not quite white, that would be too harsh and brilliant a hue, but nor did it posses the distinguishable identity of a color. The slightest hint of beige tinted it, toning down the shine of the white without making it noticeably _not_ white.

She laid the folder on the left side of her desk, though just barely off-centered. She opened it, making sure the bottom edge was flush with the bevel of the desk. Inside were several sheets of paper, and she withdrew them, laying them out methodically at the top of her desk exactly one sheet-length from the base. This was to leave room for the expenditure report and the open folder.

She looked at the numbers on the spreadsheets of the papers before her, cross-referencing them with the numbers on the report. She verified each one quickly, then went over the entire thing slowly, then one final quick look over. At that time, she could begin her work. She would find a number on one of the sheets, then tack on an eggshell sticky note (that was to make it easier to find again). Another look at the paper noted that it was indeed the correct digit, and then Weiss reached into the drawer on her desk again. She pulled out a large sheet, detailing and determining the expenses allotted to the department for each section of expenditures, including, but not limited to, shipping costs, acquisition of goods, maintenance and salaries.

Weiss looked at the numbers for the section, using the income of the department to revise whether it was within an allowable limit for the month. She found that it was, then slid the calculator on the right side of the desk to beside the expenditure report. She verified that all the calculations on the spreadsheet for determining allowable expenditures for this specific section were correctly done, then checked her work by hand. They were. Weiss drew her pen up next to the expenditure report and initialed next to the first number. The initials had delicate curls to them, but precise and sharp edges. The signature of sorts had been thoroughly thought through so as to appear authoritative and intelligent, but not unkind and uncaring.

Since she had received the silver pen with a gold weave around it, she had spent upwards of a hundred hours practicing those initials before she had been allowed to sign off on her first report. It glided over the white paper (of course it was white, the eggshell was reserved for the elite of the company), and Weiss removed it from the perfectly crafted insignia in front of her. She briefly thought that the initial might serve better as her symbol than that which had been drawn from her glyphs and served as the company's logo. Once, long ago, Weiss had pondered whether the reason her glyphs were the same as the logo because her childhood had been dominated by the presence of the company, but such thoughts had faded long ago. It had faded alongside the memories of friends and warm company. The last time she had thought about such trivial and childish matters was in the arms of a blond boy, no more than a child himself, and that bridge had long since been burned.

Then she moved to the second of thirty numbers.

As she worked, rather than pondering why she was the way she was, Weiss thought about how ridiculous it was that double checking had become a common expression to describe detail-oriented practices. It didn't take a single revision of the revised copy. One had to check their re-checked work, checking to ensure that it had been checked properly. Each _step_ itself had to be _at least_ double checked, not just the entire thing at the end of it all.

She supposed that it was those who had little drive and ability who had glorified the term, but that was hardly an excuse. It was disappointing that people were incapable of expecting more from themselves. Weiss knew the value of pushing one's-self to reach the limit of human capacity.

The methodical work continued, and even that thought disappeared to digits, calculations, and, of course, the incredibly important initials.

At precisely twelve o'clock, there was a slight _ding_ that echoed through her office. She stood mechanically, then started towards the door. It was a large thing, made of oak as well, stained darkly. She pushed it open, feeling her well toned muscles strain lightly as she worked to move it.

There were large columns, polished and carved from marble, that dotted the floor outside her office, spanning the fifty foot height of the top level of her company's tower. She found them aesthetically pleasing, and of course, they demonstrated the elegance and power of the Schnees. She made her way to the elevator, which had intricate swirls and patterns carved into the doors, and hit the down button. It lit up, but unlike the common yellow light, it glowed a soft blue in response to her touch. The elevator opened, and Weiss stepped into it. She pressed the button that lead to her own personal parking level, and it too glowed blue. The doors shut.

"Please present your scroll for identification." A soft feminine voice requested, and Weiss held up her scroll. A moment later, there was a ping, and the elevator began to drop slowly.

There were two areas in the building that were only accessible to her. One was the top floor, though she could override the door to allow visitors in for business and pressing matters, and the other was the very bottom level of the building. It was a vast concrete space, and a limo would be awaiting her. It took up approximately one one-hundredth of the space, parked just outside the elevator, but Weiss did not bother to allow others to park down there. That was her space, and the less human contact she had, the better. Part of it was security - she was one of the most important members of the most influential family on Remnant after all - but part of it was just convenience. She entered and exited the tower at hours that allowed for minimal contact with others. They bored and irritated her.

There was another soft ding as the doors opened, and Weiss stepped out onto the cold concrete. The chill of the night air was warded off by her clothes, and Weiss saw her driver, who's name she had never bothered to learn despite his five years of service, standing attentively beside her door. As she strode towards the limousine, he opened the door, and she swung into the back of long car elegantly, crossing one leg over the other as she sat. She didn't say a word, and neither did her driver (that bothersome tendency had been broken on his first day after a harsh reprimand). The door just shut behind her, and Weiss waited patiently as the driver made his way to the front. A moment later, the body of the car rumbled as the engine came to life and then went quiet as it slid silently out into the night.

The drive took perhaps five minutes, in which Weiss did not move or speak or think. She just sat, allowing the world to pass by around her, awaiting her destination. They arrived promptly, and a few moments after stopping, the door beside her opened. As always, she was precisely five steps from the apartment complex wherein she owned the penthouse. She actually owned the entire building, but the penthouse was hers.

After a ride up an elevator with beautifully girded wrought iron gates (rather than the traditional doors), she arrived to the penthouse level. It was two steps through a small hallways and a tap of her scroll against the door with an elegant paisley design on it that led Weiss inside. The lights switched on automatically, revealing the large floor of her home.

Crystal bowls containing artificial flowers (artificial flowers were infinitely more practical) spanned the room that must have covered the length of a football field. There was a kitchen to one side, though Weiss had seldom used it. When she had first started working, she had occasionally made seasoned chicken with a salad side, even sushi once, but she now found it much simpler to just have food delivered to her at her office. She couldn't remember which sentiment had pushed her to cook sushi of all things. It was complicated to make, and sometimes she burned the rice. Takeout was easier, and Dust knew she could afford it.

There was a massive television, easily over a hundred inches wide, centered in the far wall surrounded by white leather couches and chairs that had never been sat in. There was a long coffee table in the middle of the semi-circle, naturally made of oak, but it too remained untouched. There were plenty of other tables and table runners, a dinning room with immaculately hand crafted chairs that had never fulfilled their purpose as seating, crystalline chandeliers lighting the room and large, spanning arches that supported the roof. It looked beautiful, and likely breath-taking, or at least would have to an outside observer, but to Weiss, it was nothing.

She walked past it all to her bedroom without a second glance. She opened the door, then immediately closed it behind her. She strutted into her walk-in closet, full to the brim with the finest clothes crafted from the finest materials, each one tailored to suit her figure perfectly. She pulled out a silk bath robe, and disrobed, but not without removing her pen from her pocket and replacing it on its stand next to the door. Her hair pin was placed next to it. The clothes went into the hamper at the back, which would be brought to the dry cleaning in the morning. Weiss tied the silk robe around her body, feeling the smooth material slide against her soft skin. She went into her personal washroom then, twice the size of her dorm back at Beacon, with dark granite countertops, a bathtub that could have passed for a hot tub, a shower that was larger than most saunas, an actual sauna (though that was regular sized), and shining marble everywhere. A large mirror spanned the length of the room, paralleled by perfect, flawless tile work on the opposite wall.

At the end of the granite was a small door cut into the mirror, protruding ever so slightly. Weiss walked up to it, her expression never changing. She pressed into the glass of the slight protrusion and felt the spring click in response. The small cupboard opened, and inside were four mirrored shelves. On those shelves were ordered twelve different lotions, creams and cleansers - three to a shelf.

She flicked on the tap, knowing from years of experience exactly where the sweet spot between hot and cold was, and watched as a thin, pure stream of water poured out from the faucet, which was a sculpture of a glass swan. Weiss didn't notice the beautifully chiseled edges, which had taken hours to carve out. She just focused on the water, and cupped her hands underneath it.

Her hands filled up, and Weiss splashed her face with the lukewarm water. She pulled the first bottle out, the one on the bottom left of the first shelf, and pumped a small amount of the exfoliating cleanser onto the tips of her fingers. She rubbed it against her skin, noting the time on her watch beforehand. She made small swirling motions, rubbing the cleanser into her skin. This one was coarse, with large little particles digging any noticeable disturbances from her face. Weiss stopped after sixty seconds, no longer needing to check her watch to know the time, but did anyways to be certain. She cupped her hands under the glass swan, which had been left on the entire time, then washed off the exfoliator. She then returned the bottle to its place, making sure the nozzle was pointing outwards, then removed the next from the shelf. This one was a medium texture exfoliator, and she could feel it clean a bit deeper than the last one. One minute later, it was washed off and replaced by the fine exfoliator. This one would remove any remaining impurities from her skin.

Next she applied three different face masks, each of which would be removed after five minutes. They were well engineered, and anything that the exfoliators had missed would invariably be picked up by the masks. They dried quickly, and Weiss simply stared at her hollow reflection in the mirror as the clock ticked down. She removed each one after its allotted time.

The next row was to remove excess oil from her face. Each one was applied with a cotton wipe. Weiss had never had an issue with oily skin, but she used it anyways. It made her that much closer to perfect. One was slightly acidic, which would have been harsh on her skin, but the second was slightly basic. They balanced out, and the third was perfectly neutral, with a slightly lavender scent.

The final row was a set of moisturizers. Each was applied, allowed to absorb, and then followed by the next. She looked at the mirror when she was done, unconsciously seeking some answer from it, but was met only with her own image. It looked strange to her, like there was no substance behind those eyes. She blinked, and the illusion of the mirror was shattered.

 _Mirror, mirror,_ The old lyrics scampered through her mind before Weiss managed to chase them away.

Finally finished, Weiss exited the washroom. The lights went out behind her, and Weiss walked to her bed. It had satin sheets overtop of silk ones, all a pearlescent sort of silver. The bed itself was about twelve feet by ten feet, and sat on top of a slightly raised podium. There was a long table next to her bed, perfectly level with it. Weiss sat on the edge of the bed, removing her wristwatch. She wound it thirty times, then placed it next to her alarm clock. She hardly ever needed it to wake her up anymore.

She stood again, removed her bathrobe, and hung it on a stand a foot removed from the clock. Weiss then slid into her bed, pulling only the top layer over herself. She enjoyed a slight cool as she slept, so she didn't bother with the heavier sheets underneath. It stopped her from sweating during the night. That had been an odd occurrence. When she had begun working as a productive individual, she had woken up many nights in a cold sweat and panting, heaving. She vaguely recalled that those were caused by dreams, dreams filled with the ghostly wisps of a face from her past. One she somehow knew she could never forget. But the dreams had faded over time. She figure she would no longer sweat, even under both covers, but there was no reason for her to try. She was accustomed to sleeping as she did. Just as everything else, her sleeping was a routine.

Thanks to having tired herself out so during the day, sleep came easily.

 _Mirror, tell me something,_

The song slowly drifted through her mind as she hit that twilight, the time when she no longer was conscious but had yet to embrace the void of sleep.

 _Tell me who's the loneliest, of all..._

* * *

Weiss awoke two minutes before her alarm would go off. She waited in bed until it sounded, and on the first, soft, melodious ding, she turned it off. She stood and replaced the sheets to the position they had been before she had fallen asleep. Thanks to her petite frame, she made very little disturbance on the large bed.

She removed her bathrobe from the stand upon which she had hung it the previous night and tied it around her waist. It fitted her as perfectly as everything else, and she walked into her closet. She moved to the rear of the twenty foot long room to where her exercise clothes were stored. Long ago, she had done away with combat skirts, dresses and practically stylish fighting gear. Now, all she had was a few sets of spandex shorts and a few sports bras. All a subtly shimmering tone of grey.

She removed her bathrobe once again, then donned a pair of spandex and the workout top. She hung her robe back up, next to an identical set of six, then walked over to the counter that housed her pen. Underneath it was a drawer, and Weiss opened it, revealing a long, sharp, thin rapier. Myrtenaester. For the first time since the previous morning, the smallest, most minuscule, almost undetectable of smiles crossed her lips.

She exited the closet with her sword, grabbing her scroll on the way, feeling natural with her blade in her hand. She walked back through her room, then exited it. A few quick steps into the elevator, then down to the basement where Weiss had ordered practice dummies be set up. There was also a fully equipped gym, but Weiss didn't use it. That was more Yang's style than her own.

A frown creased her brow as she thought of the blonde for the first time in... She didn't know. The disturbance quickly faded though, and the elevator came to a stop. She tucked Myrtenaester next to her arm, reaching her hands behind her head and gathering her silky hair together. It was incredibly smooth, and responded as she wanted to her touch, and within a few moments, she had it tied through itself into a ponytail. Her hair was long, and it hung down to her waist, tickling the exposed small of her back a little.

The faint hint of a smile never left her lips as she began stretching, taking the necessary time to warm up. Once limber, she proceeded with a set of movements that had been taught to her when she was ten, first starting to enter tournaments. It had been her warmup for fifteen years.

Once they were completed, she begun.

She started off slowly, simple strikes and controlled attacks at the circled of dummies, but with each strike, her next came faster. Soon, individual strikes became flowing sets of movements, and Weiss began to fall into a rhythm, speeding up, getting faster. She whirled around, hacking, slashing and stabbing. She soared off glyphs and flipped through the air, dynamically changing the height from which she was striking. In a matter of minutes, she found herself striking all twelve targets, spaced by a fifteen foot diameter, in under a second. She was fast. She was a demon, unleashed upon the silicon and metal targets, weaving and jabbing as if her targets were mobile.

She lost herself in the exercise, allowing her instincts to take over and make her transition seamlessly from one strike into the next attack, then a dodge, followed by a hop taking her to a glyph, launching her across the circle to another target, spearing it with her sword.

She continued, but less than an hour later, she forced herself to stop. It would be approaching five o'clock now, and she needed to get ready for the day. She panted, and was covered in a sheen of sweat, beading up slightly from the intense exertion. She had been fighting at tournament pace, and had kept it up for the entire time. Most combatants couldn't manage to hold it for the five minute bouts in each match.

She actually grinned at that.

It felt weird - foreign - against her cheek muscles.

A few quick steps brought her to the elevator, and less than a minute later, she was back in her penthouse. She walked back into her closet and removed her spandex exercise attire. She picked out the dress she was going to wear, an ocean blue one that fitted tightly to her body and had sleeves that cut off at the ends of her shoulders, but left it there. She then walked to her set of seven bathrobes and removed one. She donned it, then walked into her bathroom. She removed her robe once more, walking towards the shower. She traded the grey silk for a white cotton towel, swapping places on its hook. She laid the towel down on the edge of her shower, then opened the door to it, stepping over the magnetic brim that kept the door in place.

She turned the water to a warm temperature and let it wash over her skin, closing her eyes and feeling it slide over her skin. Weiss didn't particularly enjoy it, but she allowed it to do as it did. The warm water helped to open her pores, and when she was feeling sufficiently heated, she applied an exfoliating scrub. She vigorously washed every inch of her body, then followed it with a moisturizing body wash. Thoroughly cleansed, Weiss turned the shower to a cold setting. Hot water could be damaging to her hair, so Weiss waited until the shower had cooled to allow her hair to get wet. She ran her fingers through it, making sure none of it had knotted up. She removed it from its ponytail.

She washed it, then followed with a conditioner. She was beginning to get cold, so she shut the water off, hearing the last splashes echo off the walls of the shower. She stepped out of it, then dried off with her towel. She exchanged cotton for silk, and tied the robe around her waist. She washed her face, following the same twelve steps as the previous evening. Finally, she brushed her hair, using as many strokes as was necessary to make it into the almost liquid state she desired. She then exited the washroom, removing her robe once more and hanging it up for the final time that morning. After applying her lavender perfume and deodorant, she donned the ocean blue dress (for some reason, she felt drawn to that color today). She grabbed her fountain pen and hair pin, doing her hair into its usual ponytail. She grabbed a matching pair of blue heels, then proceeded to exit her room.

All she had with her was her scroll and her pen.

She got to the SDC tower by six A.M. She kept working to finish the stack of papers that grew larger throughout the day, only making a dent in it when she was the only one left in the building.

Then she went home.

Then she woke up.

Again, and again, and again...

* * *

 **Yeah, this chapter is a bit longer and has some tedious details in it, but that's all on purpose (reflects her state of mind). This also might be the most hypocritical thing I've ever written. Next chapter is more along the traditional style of the story though. Next chapter is also going to be a tough one to write, for reasons. It's almost finished, so those of you who are looking forward to it, you might get 2 chapters this week!**

 **Other than that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reading! Stick around for the next one even if you didn't, I promise, I'm taking the time to make it right. Hope you're enjoying the story, and, as per usual, any comments, advice, criticism or thoughts are greatly appreciated.**

 **-Unjax**


	9. Chapter 9

"You're going to be leaving?" Ruby said nervously.

"Yeah, I just wanted to say bye to all of you. I'll be leaving pretty early tomorrow, so this will be the last time I see you."

"Um, for someone who's leaving so fast, you have a lot of things that aren't packed up." Yang pointed out.

"My father is taking care of that. There'll be some SDC employees by to get all my stuff."

"Weiss," It was Blake. She had been silent since Weiss had come into the room. "You saved me from making a mistake back in first year when we were chasing Torchwick. I wanted to walk away from all of you, be alone, isolate myself. You saved me from that. Don't be a hypocrite." Weiss smiled softly. She had been expecting something like that.

"I love all of you, you're like the sisters I never had." They didn't speak. They understood that, even though she had a biological sister, Weiss didn't have any siblings. "But I don't have a choice. You should know that as well as anyone Blake. The SDC is corrupt and broken, and someone needs to do something about it."

"Going to work for your father? You're not going to do anyone any good Weiss." Ruby's voice, uncharacteristically quiet, piped up. Weiss couldn't answer her directly. Ruby was right. Weiss wanted to believe that she was leaving to try and do good, but she wasn't. She was going because her father was making her. Ever since she was a child, she was going to end up right where she was. It didn't matter which friends she made, who she loved, it would always end like this. She was always going to work for her father, carry on the family name. It was inescapable; inevitable.

"It's not something I expect you to understand," It was a blatant lie. They understood perfectly what would happen. "But I have to go. You can't change my mind on this because it's not my choice to make-"

"It shouldn't be your father's choice." Blake's voice was dangerous.

"You don't get it, it's not his choice either. It's no one's choice. It's-"

"Cut it, Weiss." Blake cut her off again. "I never really had parents. The White Fang took me in as a child, taught me to hate. They're all I ever knew. I still had a choice though. Don't let yourself be dominated by something you hate."

Weiss was quiet, and for a moment, she found herself thinking about Blake's book. The one about the man with two souls. He had been dominated by something he hated, but he had broken from it. That was a story though, and Weiss' life was anything but. She was grounded in reality, and even though she had allowed herself to hope for brief, foolhardy moments, she knew what was going to happen.

"Does Jaune know?" Ruby asked, and Weiss' heart sank. She wished that Ruby hadn't asked that. She had been dreading the question. Not trusting her voice, she shook her head.

"Weiss, you need to tell him. You should talk to him."

"What good would that do? It's grad tonight Ruby, and it's our last night together. Ever. If I tell him, he'll be mad at me. We'll spend our last day together arguing. He's going to hate me one way or another, at least let us have a few more hours together."

There was a silence, sickening, sobering, and somehow sad. She could see it in their faces. They knew how this was going to play out. They knew she would leave without telling him, and there was nothing they could do. But they didn't like it, not one bit.

Ruby let out a heavy sigh.

"If there's nothing we can do to get you to stay, then alright. It's your decision in the end." Weiss almost pointed out that it wasn't her decision, but let it slide. "We'll respect that. I wish you'd reconsider, but thanks for telling us Weiss. It's been a good four years." Weiss smiled thinly. There was a catch in her throat, and she couldn't speak for a moment. She wasn't expecting to feel this emotional, though she was saying bye to the only four friends she had ever really made. It shouldn't be so surprising.

The farewells came quickly after that. There was a lot of hugging, a few tears, and then a quick sobering up when Yang reminded everyone that graduation was only a few hours away, and knowing Weiss, it would take her at least that long to get ready. A quick laugh, then the room was abuzz with a frantic energy, everyone preparing.

The entire time Weiss felt something churning in her stomach. Guilt, fear, nervousness, and excitement. She was graduating!

...

But Dust, she was _graduating..._

* * *

He lay the thick blanket out on the rooftop, the same one he had brought to their picnic on her birthday. She smiled at that. Little things of that sort were part of why she loved him. He cared enough to remember.

A breeze whispered past her pale skin, raising goosebumps on it and pushing the soft fabric of her charcoal grey dress against her. She hugged herself as Jaune straightened, grinning at her. He saw that she was cold, and immediately shucked his suit jacket. He walked up to her, kissed her on the cheek softly, and draped it over her shoulders. It was warm, probably from the dancing of earlier in the evening, and Weiss immediately felt more comfortable. He gave her a quick hug, and she closed her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder.

Happiness was elusive, something that was nigh on impossible to catch and pin down. Weiss hadn't really known it existed until she had come to Beacon. But here, on the rooftop of the dorms with Jaune holding her in his arms, it came easily. Naturally. She breathed deeply, remembering the moment, enjoying it.

But not without a twinge of guilt.

"Come on," He whispered in her ear, escorting her over to the blanket. She lay down on it, and it was soft and comfortable. Not that she would have minded if it wasn't. Next to Jaune, it didn't matter what the world around her was like. She was just happy. Without exception.

She curled into him, her leg falling over his naturally. Fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that were otherwise ruined, perfect only along one joining edge. Only together did they have any salvation from the world.

She was going to miss it. She was going to miss him so, _so_ much.

Weiss wanted to cry, but crying would demand an explanation. And she couldn't tell him. They had less than twelve hours left together, and Weiss, who only truly existed with him beside her, knew that she would die after that. She'd be there, walking, talking, making deals and consulting, but she would be a shell. The life, love, longing, hope and fear that made her who she was, that defined her, that came out when he offered her the safety of unconditional acceptance, would wither away. Vanish.

And he couldn't find out about that. Not yet.

"So, how about Beacon?" She giggled, allowing herself to enjoy the moment. Every second stood out sharply, each fraction of a second crystal clear. The knowledge that it was all going to be gone soon heightened all her senses, added definition to everything. In the guiltiest of ways, it made her even happier to be where she was.

"Beacon was okay I guess." She downplayed, knowing full well that it was the best her life would get.

"Pretty good four years eh?"

"Better than back home."

"You mean back in prison?" She looked up and met his eyes, like two little chips of sapphire.

"You remember that?" She was surprised. It had been a surprisingly big moment for her, one that she had remembered despite trying to push it out of her mind before they became friends. It was why they were where they were. She had met him in first year, but their story had started that day, on a bench, watching airships drift in and out of Beacon's airfield.

"How could I forget? That was the first time I felt comfortable around you."

"You made yourself _plenty_ comfortable during first year." He chuckled.

"I was just trying to figure out how to get your attention. I figured with you being an heiress, you'd have a lot of guys asking you out in a prim proper fashion. I wanted to be different. So, I got as far away from that as possible."

"So, guitar songs to ask me to the dance?"

"Might not have been my smoothest move."

"You think?"

"And then you went with Neptune." She laughed.

"Well, technically no. He just danced with me when we got there."

"You're welcome for that." He winked at her. She laughed again.

"I can't believe that it was you. My first dance... In a way it was still you. You were the thought behind it."

"I did not enjoy that night."

"Mm? Watching me dance with Neptune and then putting on a dress... You're an interesting man Jaune." He smiled, leaned down and kissed her.

"Yeah, but that's what makes me a Prince Charming."

"Still a frog prince to me." He rolled his eyes and she laughed.

Their talking petered out as the stars rose high above them, the shattered moon shining down on them. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence with uneasy, awkward small talk. They just lay together, under the second blanket Jaune had brought, curled against one another. There was an intimacy to that moment, a love deep and abiding enough that it didn't need to be said. It just existed, and for both of them, it was undeniable. Weiss knew how selfish she was being, but she couldn't bring herself to shatter the perfection of the silence to tell him.

It was a familiar silence, one not unlike what they had experienced three years ago at the airfield. Comfortable. Except this time, Weiss knew why. It was because Jaune was perfect for her. He was everything she ever could have asked for, the accentuating feature of the only four years of her life she would ever enjoy.

As the moon reached its zenith, she didn't feel the least bit tired. Being next to him, she felt electrified, like every nerve in her body was buzzing with unbridled energy. Pure ecstasy, but of a sort that lasted. One she knew she could have forever if she just chose to stay with him. If she spent the night next to him and didn't leave in the morning, that was what she could have.

But she was going to leave in the morning.

That was later though, and Weiss wanted to experience now.

She reached her head up and found his lips. It had been at least an hour since they had spoken, but she knew he was just as awake as she, and she needed to feel him against her. The soft embrace of his lips offered reprieve, assurance that he was there, even if she wouldn't be. Weiss leaned into the kiss, letting it grow more passionate, erasing the physical boundaries between them. She flipped her leg over so she was on top of him, her hands grabbing the soft skin of his cheeks, feeling the hard edge of his jawbone, pulling him into her. His hands slid over her body, pressing her closer to him, the two of them moving in perfect synchronicity. They knew each other perfectly now, so intimate it seemed like they were one whole rather than two ruined, fragmented, tortured souls.

She let the heat of the moment take over, pushing any conscious thoughts from her mind. She just kissed him, knowing that this was the last time she would. Knowing this would be the last time she felt the hard, toned muscles of his body, see his nearly angelic face, feel his skin next to hers. Weiss knew that this was it. This was the end. But she didn't think about that. She didn't think at all. She just let the burning passion take over, the absolute love and devotion obliterating all barriers between them. It was just him and her and the warmth deep inside her, the undeniable love, and there was nothing else that mattered.

* * *

"She what?" Empty, hollow, devoid of feeling.

"She said she had to go."

" _Why?_ " That question was asked on many different levels.

"She... Thinks that it will be easier this way."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know,"

Pyrrha was painfully aware of how close they were. He was so near she could feel the slight warmth radiating from his skin. They sat side by side, shoulder by shoulder, a hairsbreadth away from one another, and Pyrrha wanted nothing more than to close that fraction of an inch between them. She wanted to hug him, comfort him. She settled for placing her hand on his back, rubbing small circles over it.

Despite their proximity, he felt so far away.

"Jaune, I'm sorry."

"What for?" He looked up at her, and her breath caught when she saw the deep pools of his eyes.

"That this happened to you. You're a great guy, and I think you'll find a great girl. You didn't deserve this."

"I already found a great girl." He said numbly, and Pyrrha's heart twisted in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was for herself or for him.

"I know you loved her Jaune, but she left... If she cared-"

"She didn't have a choice." The words echoed like the cry of a ghost in her ear. A perfect mirror of what Weiss had said. "I- I knew this was coming. Sometime. I didn't know when, and I thought maybe I could save her for a few years at least."

"Save her?"

"Yeah,"

Pyrrha didn't understand, but she didn't press the issue.

She saw a tear hit the ground. He hadn't sobbed. His voice hadn't cracked. He had made no indication that he was crying. And yet he was.

He stood from beside her, and Pyrrha's heart skipped a beat as he took a step away from her. A step that might as well have been a thousand miles for what he said next.

"I guess that's it for me then." It was said with utter resignation. He turned back, smiling sadly at her. Her heart broke in her chest, and a deep yearning welled up within her, making her want to stand and embrace him. Tell him how she felt, that she wouldn't leave him, that she could always be there by his side. She stood, her arm drifting up, almost unconsciously, and then she stopped. She looked away, biting her lip. It wouldn't be fair to him for her to do that. She had promised Weiss she would be there, and she knew that he needed her, so she would be a friend. She could never be anything more.

She met his eyes once more. They looked old and weary - dull, but they still had the spark of life in them that Pyrrha loved. There was a trail from where the tear had streaked down his face, and Pyrrha had to fight back the urge to brush it away. To brush away his pain, and replace it with a warm touch. He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, his long locks shifting in his hand, trailing like strands of gold in the wind. She thought he looked like an angel crying. A broken vision, a picture marred by despair and sadness, but utterly perfect in its undeniable beauty.

But she could never tell him.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she hastily brushed it away, thinking she may have successfully hidden it from him. He saw though, and she knew he could never know why she was crying.

"Pyrrha?" He asked, worry in his voice. He had just been left, abandoned, deserted, and he still had the time to consider her before himself. He was the most selfless person she knew.

He hugged her, but not in the way she wanted. He held her like a friend, comforting her as he might Ruby, and that made it so much worse. She had wanted to feel him hold her against him for so long, a loving embrace, one that spoke of things felt but that could never be expressed fully by words. She wanted him to hold her like he loved her, as though her feelings were reciprocated. As though the world might finally be fair and maybe make sense.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop herself from feeling the way she did, but it couldn't be helped. She would never stop loving him the way she did. And in that moment she knew that Jaune never would either. He loved Weiss unconditionally, just as Pyrrha did him. It would never change, and she knew she would never love someone else, and neither would he.

She let the tears come. She let him see how she felt, just this once. She felt moisture wet the fabric of her shirt on her shoulder, just under where his chin was resting. Another tear. He was crying too.

So they stood there; both despairing for lost loves and the inevitable unfairness of it all. He would never know why she cried, he would never know the reason, but he understood what she cried for. Pyrrha found some semblance of comfort in that, in knowing that they shared at least that one thing.

She would spend an eternity watching the man she loved love another, and he would suffer the entire time. The best she could do was try and stop the bleeding by ripping her own heart out. Because that's what it was, being with him and never being able to tell him. It was sundering her apart, and it would continue to do so.

Every single day.

Again, and again, and again.

* * *

Weiss walked into her extravagant penthouse. She paused this time, registering the superficial niceties of the apartment. When she had bought it, she had thought that they were beautiful in a way. They weren't though. In fact, they were ugly. She found them repulsive. She found the entire building repulsive. Elegant and perhaps as close to perfection as humans could get, but flawed in the fundamental idea behind them. They were created to be beautiful by being flawless.

She was wearing her ocean blue dress again, and she finally remembered why it had been her favourite for so many years, followed quickly by the realization that it was her second favourite. Weiss had worn it three days in a row. Ever since she had heard those few words. She couldn't bear to wear the other one.

She walked towards the room, thoughts of sapphire eyes and tender kisses reviving in her mind, awoken after years of dormancy. She began to remember, each step she took bringing another ghostly thought. She saw the counter, where once upon a time she had tried to cook sushi. She had failed miserably, just like the first time she had tried. She remembered that night, and smiled thinly. She wondered how often she would have had sushi if she had stayed that night oh so long ago.

It was a trivial thing to wonder, and yet it seemed more important than every single life altering deal she had made earlier in the day.

She made her way into the bedroom, walking straight to the washroom. She turned the tap, watching the water run out of the immaculate swam sculpture. There was not a single flaw in its faceted surface, and yet she saw the entire thing as flawed.

She splashed the cold water onto her face, not bothering to find the sweet spot. She wanted the cold, icy shock. It hit her and she gasped, sucking in breaths that came out ragged and broken, just like she was. She staved off the tears though. As she had for three days.

Weiss looked at the mirror, fragmented lyrics of an ancient song running through her mind. The song posed a question, and she knew the answer. There was a why to it all, but that was a hopeless question, beyond human comprehension. She would never know why it was her. She had screwed up, but it was all a result of a long chain of events, stringing back to her childhood, interconnected, leading to this moment.

And it was inarguably her fault.

She broke contact with the icy gaze in the mirror, the cracked glaciers of her irises. The emotionless words, listed by a faceless reporter, ran through her mind. Unconnected to her life, known only thanks to overhearing a snippet of nearly muted speech at a business lunch. Two hunters - partners - described by a short colleague with tinted hair tips and her blonde sister as becoming more and more reckless, throwing themselves into more radical and dangerous missions with unexplained fervour, two broken animals running from some pain only they could see. Of course, such a lifestyle had consequences. Injuries, isolation from previous friends, constant danger, but they continued.

It hadn't gone according to plan. They were supposed to save each other. Weiss was supposed to suffer, and they were supposed to be happy. She was supposed to finally get her chance to be with him, but it had never happened that way. Instead of healing, they had self-destructed, continuing on, pushing themselves further and further. Everything has a breaking point.

She removed the dress, placing it in the hamper. It was dirty, had been for two days, but she had worn it again despite the fact. She just wanted to be around that colour again, however briefly and fleetingly it was. She couldn't wear it again though, couldn't bear to see the reminder. She pulled one of her silk gowns down, tying it around her waist, numbly making her way back to the bathroom. She pulled down her exfoliator, but just stared at it.

They had saved thousands. After the snippet of a report, she had done her research. Their carelessness had made them the best in a century, maybe longer. The most dangerous situations, those which would be unthinkable to others, were a welcome opportunity for them. Oblivion wasn't so bad, not for two as wounded and broken as them. The creatures of nightmares weren't nearly as terrifying when your entire existence was one.

Weiss disrobed, dropping the delicate silk callously on the ground, stepping into the shower. She turned it on, letting the warm water tickle her smooth skin lightly. She wanted it to wash away who she was, return her to the hollow shell, devoid of all feeling, but it didn't. Water had no magical effects, and there was nothing in the world that could fix her.

She exited, feeling no better. She dried off, then returned to the mirror.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Of herself. Dust, she should have thought it through. It had all fit, she thought it made sense. A few months of pain, bonding with the caring, stable presence. She had loved him, and even if it took time, he was supposed to love her. But he hadn't. It didn't work. Love was a foul, sick creature, and it would turn any chance at normality on its head and throw it back in the face of the planner.

It had twisted them until they had no choice. At least they had done good in their time. Weiss wondered if he had ever been happy after that day. Had she stolen his entire life away? Had she been so stupidly selfish?

She walked into her closet, a dark grey catching her eye. For years, it would never enter her mind. She could almost convince herself it was a shadow, but at the end of the closet, tucked into the corner on the floor, it was there. She walked over and picked up the smooth material. It wasn't nearly as nice as what she normally wore, but it was so much more beautiful. She ran the charcoal grey fabric of the dress through her fingers, walking backwards towards her bed.

She had not worn that dress since her last day with him.

A glint of silver and gold caught her eye and she saw the pen on its stand, standing tall, mocking her. She had chosen it all that time ago. She had brought it with her wherever she went, the one constant in her life.

Rage, red hot and terrified, roared to life inside her. That pen that had taken her life, made her think she had no choice, made her think she was doing the right thing when it was controlling her, twisting her, warping her. She screamed, not sure why she was screaming at a pen, grabbed it, and threw it violently into the floor. It cracked, ink leaking out from a fresh hole in the side of it, almost as if it were bleeding.

Weiss clutched the dress to her chest, stumbling backwards until she fell onto the edge of her bed. The ghost of his kisses on her lips drifted through her mind, making her want to go back to them, back to when she was happy, and he was happy, and even in their broken, fractured world, there was one source of bliss and peace. She wanted him to hold he again, like he had on the roof their last night together. Like he had countless times. She wanted him to cook some chicken for her while she made a salad. She wanted to dance late into the night, being swung around by him, feeling happy despite all the horrors of her life. She just wanted to see him. One last time.

Weiss pressed the material of the dress against her face, a sob wracking her body. It was soon followed by another, and the tears, pushed down not for three days, but for years, came. The overwhelming, gaping hole in chest opened up, feeling like someone had stabbed her a thousand times. Her insides roiled, rebelling and twisting at the truth she didn't want to have to face. She cried hopelessly, because hope was gone. She had driven it away the second she had left him. And now it had stolen the one thing she ever truly loved from her.

Because she had killed them both. Pyrrha was dead.

So was he.

There was nothing to overcome the sorrow. There was nothing left for her but pain and utter, inescapable isolation.

Because there was nothing left to do, nothing that could dull the white hot pain in her heart, she just cried into the smooth silk of her charcoal grey dress.

She cried, knowing that nothing could ever be right in the world again.

Because Jaune Arc was gone forever.

* * *

 **...**

 **Hi there...**

 **So I feel I should explain myself. This story started out as pure fluff. It was good that way, but then, thinking about why they were bonding, it became evident that Weiss couldn't commit. She didn't think she had choice in the matter even though she really did, but for her to change, for her to realize that she was constantly making the decision not to be with him, her chance had to be taken away. And it makes sense for Jaune too. And for Pyrrha. They didn't kill themselves... They just couldn't bring themselves to save their own lives. They both loved someone that could never love them back, and there's pain that comes with that. Pain makes for rash decisions.**

 **I was trying to find a way to make this work out happy. I honestly was, promise. I slowed down my writing for a really long time, trying to play around with ways to make this end well. The only things I could come up with were bs hollywood endings where everyone has sudden epiphanies about who they are and the realities of life. It would have been forced to say the least.**

 **I hope you all understand why it had to end the way it did, even though I know it sucks. It sucked to write. At least there was some fluffiness at grad, right? Right? No? Okay...**

 **Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed reading. This is the final chapter (though I will be releasing a side story about Weiss' 21st birthday, which** ** _will_** **involve a bar), so I hope you liked the story as much as I enjoyed writing it (well, parts of it anyways).**

 **For those of you who have stuck with this until the end, thank you so much. The reason I write largely has to do with creating something for others, and it's all of you who are reading that keeps me going. So thanks! As usual, especially at the end of a story, feedback is really appreciated. If you think I made the wrong call, let me know. If you liked (in that deprecating way we sometimes do) the story, that's great to hear as well! I know I'm not a perfect author yet, and knowing how everyone responds will only help me make better stories in the future.**

 **Finally, please don't hurt me too bad.**

 **Signing off for the last time:**

 **-Unjax**


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